


Lonely Without You

by Little_Inkstone



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 17:36:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6916849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Inkstone/pseuds/Little_Inkstone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the last of his kind, Rumplestiltskin the half-man half-wulver has resigned himself to being alone for the rest of days; that is until he stumbles across the effervescent Belle with her bright blue eyes and knack for finding him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lonely Without You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for anonymousnerd as a gift in the Mantis Menagerie exchange. ANG prompted: Wulver!Rumple.

Rumplestiltskin had been alone for many years, more years then he could remember in fact.  It hadn’t always been that way, at one point there had been others like him.  The woods that made up his home had never been brimming with others, but they had been there.  But as the years passed his people faded from this life and moved on to the next, leaving him more and more alone; until there was no one left but him.

Of course there were other kinds in the forest, kelpies lived in the ponds, rivers and lochs, fairies turned hollow trees into their homes, and humans lived in the valley not so far away.  But Rumple had learned early to be wary of all these.  Fairies would not hesitate to bite his ears, or pull at his fur, and any kelpie would love to make a meal of him if he were not careful.  So he had learned to stay far away from the places that these creatures made their homesteads; sticking instead to the seaside cliffs to catch his meals and making his home out of a large rolling hill and boulder on the edge of the forest.

Even still, and for all his wariness of kelpies or fairies, he could not stop his fascination with humankind.  They were just as cruel and as bloodthirsty as any creature he had encountered, possibly more so, but something about them drew him to them.  Perhaps it was because he was half human himself, a fact that had made him an outsider among his people, making him lonely even before they were all gone.  He had no snout to speak of, only the nose of a man.  The hair he grew never strayed beyond the top of his head and the sides of his face; much too human for the tastes of the wolf-headed wulvers he had grown-up with.  It didn’t matter that his ears were as pointy as theirs, or his teeth as sharp, nor that his sense were not dulled by his human blood; all they had seen were the things that made him different.

Solitude had been his only companion for so long, that he almost didn’t recognize the girl for what she was when he first saw her.

He had ventured into the forest, one of his rare trips to gather mushrooms and wild honey, when he’d seen her, emerging from a small rock pond.  The light caught her brunette curls, making them shine with subdued fire; her skin was without blemish, as pale as the shells he sometimes collected, and all of it was on display.  He was entranced.  Rumple knew it was wrong to stare, but wonder kept him frozen, rooted to the spot, and then a more chilling thought pierced his mind.

This was no human maiden, come to take a spring bath, all the humans in the valley knew better than that, no this was a kelpie, come to lure some poor soul to his doom.  What else could explain such ethereal beauty?

Carefully he backed away, not able to draw his eyes from the figure before him, not out of an appreciation for her splendour, but out of mind numbing terror.  He had barely taken a step when a dry twig snapped under his foot.  The kelpie’s head snapped up, staring in his direction; a worried frown marring her features.

“Who’s there?”  She demanded, grabbing a discarded dress from the shore of the pond he had not seen before.  “I warn you, I am the daughter of the new Lord of Sealgair, and my father will not take kindly to anyone that does me harm.”  Her voice was strong, tinted with an accent not form the local lands, but he knew the name Sealgair; it was the title of the Laird that ruled the men of the valley.  If what she was saying was true, then he was not looking upon a kelpie, only a noblewoman.  “Several people know where I am, and they will come to find me if I’m not home soon!”  She added, her nerves showing when she took her plump lower lip between her teeth.

Carefully he considered what to do.  If he fled she would see him, and that might lead to a hunting party; if he came forward she would scream and likely run to her father, once more leading to a hunt for his head.  The safest option was to simply not move and hope she left soon.  Swallowing thickly, the tip of his ear twitched.  He closed his eyes, holding as still as possible so she would not see him.  It felt as if he stood forever and day before he heard the rustling of leaves.  He opened his eyes to see if she had left, only to come face to face with the now clothed beauty.

She let out a soft gasp, her eyes widening.  He scrambled back falling on his arse and letting a yelp of shock.

“I–I’m sorry.”  Rumple croaked, his voice hoarse from disuse.  When was the last time he had spoken to someone other than himself?  Years at the very least.

Her lips parted, no doubt to scream; he was up and running before she had the chance.  Weaving his way through the familiar terrain he had put a large distance between them when he heard it.

“Wait, come back!”  She called.  “I’m sorry for scaring you!”

His pace slowed, but he didn’t stop, disaster lay behind him and he would go the way of his people if he lingered near that pond.

It had been a poor first meeting, and Rumple had never expected to see the Laird’s daughter again; perhaps he wouldn’t have, if she was any less stubborn.  In the next few weeks the forest was criss-crossed with her pleasing scent, she was everywhere, completely inescapable.  The only place he had found refuge from his one woman hunting party was on the shore, the breeze in his hair and the line in his hand.  Few things could calm his troubled soul, but the turning, spinning of his line always could.  Rumple had assumed he was safe atop his wulver stane, looking out at the rolling sea; the salt in the air and the crash of the waves had clouded his senses, making it easy for the girl to sneak up on him.

Her greeting caused him jerk away, his grip on the line slipping, losing a sure catch.  But he had no chance to watch his lost cord and fish, instead he was staring at the young woman that had, through sheer force of will had tracked him down.

Mind scrambling his tried to come up with something to stay in reply of her greeting.  “Hullo.”  Rumple replied softly.

Her features had broken into a large smile, and that had been it, he was lost.

The next few months with Belle – and wasn’t her name as fitting at they came? – were the most blissful then any he could remember.  She was as clever and as intelligent as she was beautiful, they’d spent hours talking about everything and nothing.  He’d taught her to fish and in return she taught him to read, a skill he’d never found important until he discovered at it was Belle’s favourite pastime.  Rumplestiltskin could never remember being so content.

Then, one night, when she’d stayed too long with him in his humble dwelling, a terrible squall keeping them indoors a miracle happened.  Belle kissed him.  Shyly at first, and then with more confidence; it all felt so natural to kiss and touch each other.  Soft whispers of devotion passed between them as Belle pulled him to his bed, coaxing him to be the first man she experienced ecstasy with.  He asked her if she was sure more than once, and despite her maidenly blush, Belle knew her own mind enough to convince him that this was what she wanted.

In the morning, with the muted sunlight cast through clouds shining into his room, Rumple found himself alone.

For the first day he busied himself around the house, hoping that she had simply stepped out for a moment, and would be back any moment.  He wound and rewound his fishing line, scrubbed his floors and walls and worked in his small garden.  The loneliness in his heart, banished by Belle’s warmth over the blissful months they’d shared, began to take root once more.  The next day he jumped at every sound.  Finally unable to take it, his sat outside his door in the gray day, straining his eyes and ears for any hint of Belle coming down the path.

At the end of the week Rumple admitted to himself that Belle wasn’t coming back.  That night he raged at the world for forcing him to live some half-life between wulver and human.  He’d always been too monstrous for humanity and too human for his own kind.  The only one that had ever looked past his outer appearance was Belle, and now she had left him too, betrayed him, taken his heart and crushed it.  Anything breakable within his home was smashed and anything that wasn’t bore the marks of his claws.

Once he was done, breathing heavily among the shattered remains of his life, he wept, loud wet sobs.

Rumplestiltskin had dealt with loss before.  First he’d lost his mother, then his father, the kindly aunts that had raised him, and eventually his whole community.  He was alone, and it had been a foolish dream that he had awoken from to think that Belle could ever _really_ want to be with him.  He was a freak, a monster, a beast with nothing to offer to the daughter of a nobleman.

Picking himself up he returned to his routine from before he’d met Belle.  The ache in his chest was ever present, but if he worked hard he could ignore it.  But at night, when nothing could distract him, and he lay in the bed where he and Belle had made love, he couldn’t suppress the pain.  Often Rumple couldn’t sleep unless he was exhausted to the point of collapse.

One night when he was especially haunted he left his bed, figuring a moonlit stroll would calm his mind and sooth his heart.

He’d only been walking for a short time when he heard it: the beat of hooves along the path, and with it a scent he’d know anywhere.  His heart stuttered in his chest, foolish hope taking flight before he could stop it.  Rumple began running all heartbreak forgotten and forgiven.

“Belle!  Belle!”  He didn’t care how absurd he looked all he knew what that Belle had returned to him, she’d come _back_.

Rumple should have known something was wrong when he saw the horse standing in the middle of the road, no longer in motion.  He had no chance to react, a searing pain shooting through his foot forcing him to the ground.  A metal snare was wrapped around his ankle, biting into his flesh and sending jolts of pain throughout the ensnared appendage.

There was no chance for him to do anything before a blade was pressed to his throat.

“Move, demon, and I shall cut you stem to stern.”  A low voice threatened.

Dizzy from fear Rumple attempted to stay as still as possible.  More men appeared from the surrounding woods and soon he found himself in chains; he didn’t fight them, didn’t dare.  He knew when he was beat, and some cowardly self-preserving part of him did not want to die in the dust of the road.

They forced him along the path, caring nought for his limp from their snare.  Gritting his teeth Rumple tried to block out the pain, block out the scent of Belle coming from the decoy cloak they had used.  These were clearly men from Belle’s village, but how did they know about him?  How had they known what to use for bait?  Did Belle truly regret their time together so much that she would help them?  What other explanation was there?

When they reached the village Rumple wasn’t sure if the tears running down his cheeks were from the pain in his leg or in his heart.

The cell he was forced into was small, with only a pile of straw to sleep on.  It was beneath the keep that over looked the village of the valley; he’d seen the tall spires from a distance several times before, and always wondered what it would be like in the large building.  Now he knew, it was cold and damp.

Curling up in a ball, he tried to make himself as small as possible.  That had always seemed to work when one of his kind decided to rough him up, perhaps now it would work again.  The man that had held a sword to his throat only scoffed, looking at him coldly.

“Don’t worry beast, you won’t be here long.  In the morning you’ll be put to death for daring to touch my fiancée.”

Rumple looked up at the man, taking in the appearance of the fiancé that Belle had told him she didn’t wish to wed.  He was as brutish as she had said, but clearly something had changed her mind on the matter when it came to marriage, considering he was in a cell and her fiancé was still her fiancé.  He couldn’t blame her, who would want him?

The door of his cell creaked closed and he was left in darkness.

Surprisingly he had been able to sleep in the prison cell, as cold and uninviting as it was, but that only meant dawn came too early.  He had squandered his last night on Earth.  Soon Belle’s fiancé and several guards came for him, hauling him to his feet and forcing him out of the stone room and up the stairs.  The morning was cool, the air crisp, the sky threatening rain; most would find the weather dreary, but Rumple was glad for it.  He had always preferred cooling mist to blazing sun.  If he were to choose the kind of day to be his last, this would be it.

In the center of town there was a wooden platform, and atop that was the chopping block where he would lose his head.  Quite a crowed had already formed; all of them had come to gawk at the beast that had haunted their forest for so long.  It was foolish, but Rumple couldn’t help but search the crowd’s faces for Belle, it didn’t matter that his capture was probably by her design; if he could only see her one last time he would be content.

At last he was on top of the platform, his head down; they’d removed his chains, probably assuming – and rightly so – that he would not try to escape.  Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes and thought of Belle.  Her smile, her laugh, and the way her eyes lit up when he mastered another word, how she’d looked at the height of her passion.  His life hadn’t always been kind or good, but at least for a moment he’d had Belle.

“Rumplestiltskin!”  His eyes flew open as he heard her voice.  She was pushing her way through the crowed, tears in her eyes.  “No, don’t hurt him!”  She sobbed.  Before she could reach the stage a guard caught her about the waist, holding her back.

“Belle, you are making a scene.”  Her fiancé snapped, lowering the sword he had been preparing to swing.

“Gaston, please, don’t hurt him, he hasn’t done anything, I swear!”  Belle implored, trying to squirm away from the man still holding her.

Belle’s plea for his safety was he needed to decide that he would not be dying today, not when he now knew Belle had nothing to do with his capture.  With a great roar he flung himself up, head-butting Gaston’s while the man was distracted.  Jumping down he ran towards Belle, prying the arms of the guard off her, scooping her up and running out of town as fast as he was able.  Wulver’s were stronger than humans, and faster too, a fact of which he had never been more grateful for.  He ran deep into the woods, the underbrush so thick that it would be impossible to follow on horseback and unless one knew the terrain the chances of getting lost were almost guaranteed.

Rumple only stopped once they reached a small clearing filled with wild flowers; so far from town it would take hours if not days for them to be found.  His foot throbbed from the run, but it was worth it.

Panting heavily he turned to look at the woman in his arms.

“Belle are you–”  He was cut off by her lips crashing down onto his, all passion and no finesse.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”  She murmured between kisses, stealing his breath and kissing everywhere she could reach, her hands carding through his long downy hair.  “I didn’t mean to leave you.”  Belle explained between frantic kisses.  “I was coming back, I swear.”  She captured his lips in a messy kiss, before breaking away, her eyes capturing his.  “But a search party found me while I was out getting well water.”

“You were coming back.”  Rumple whispered dazedly.

“I was.”  Belle agreed.

“You were coming back!”  He repeated happily, twirling her around and kissing her once more.

They fell amongst the flowers, him on top of her, the manic energy of being reunited causing their hands to shake as they undressed each other.  There’d be time for slow and gentle later, when the threat of permanent separation was farther away, right now they needed each other.

Belle’s nails bit into his back as he nipped at her throat, sucking and biting until he had left his mark on her.  She pulled at his hair, forcing his lips back to hers for a rough kiss.  Rumple spread her legs, his hand coming down to make sure she was ready before he guided his cock into her waiting entrance, her cry of joy the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

“Mine, my Rumple.”  Belle all but growled, beginning to leave a twin of the mark he had left on her neck on his.

“Yours, yes, Belle, yours.”  He gasped.

Their pace was punishing, the obscene sound of flesh slapping flesh filling their private clearing.  His nails scratched along her sides as she cried out, begging for more, harder and faster, Rumple was all too happy to oblige.

“My Belle.”  Rumple groaned.  “My darling Belle.”

“Th-that’s right, yours, Rumple – Oh!”

He felt her come around him triggering his own sweet release.

They lay together in a sweaty heap, the both of them trying to catch their breath.  Belle recovered first, a soft smile curving her lips as she brushed her nose against his.  Rumple blinked lazily, a smile of his own spreading across his face.

“Love you.”  He slurred happily, drunk off joy.

She blushed prettily, pecking his lips softly.  “I love you too.”


End file.
